Amortentia
by MrsRen
Summary: Written for the Dramione Fanfiction Writer's "Troping Thursdays" segment. PROMPT: Amortentia. [ONESHOT]


**Note: I don't participate in every trope drabble this lovely group puts on, but sometimes I do. And sometimes things happen.**

* * *

It would have been easier if it had been Ron that she'd smelled, but if the last few years were any indication, nothing ever came easy for any of them. Not Harry, who had lost more than anyone else. Not Ron either since he'd buried Fred.

Certainly not Hermione fucking Granger either.

It was ironic as she took her seat in the Potions dungeons, her cheeks flaming hot after Professor Slughorn had all but demanded she voice the various scents that Amortentia had brought. _Firewhiskey, Cologne, Wind._ She busied herself with the question if she really knew what the wind smelled like, but given the night two weeks earlier..she knew.

Christmas had been a somber affair. Her parents celebrated in Sydney, Australia, blissfully ignorant of the daughter who had grown up to be a Witch. The Obliviation Charm could be reversed. McGonagall, who had been placed as the newest Headmistress, had been confident in that. Except over the course of the year, Jean Granger had conceived another child and Hermione had made a painful decision to leave her parents to their lives.

Harry and Ron had gone to the Burrow, had tried to coax their third part into meeting them at Kings Cross, but she'd let owls go unanswered and had spent most of Christmas Day in the Head Dorm. Neville had knocked on her door, but he hadn't been successful either.

It wasn't until she'd dragged herself out of bed for rounds that she'd stumbled into what she should have known would be a disaster.

Hermione had been avoiding Malfoy whenever she got the chance. It was almost possible to believe it hadn't happened at all, that she hadn't let him goad her into a drinking contest that she'd lost miserably. That she hadn't spilled her entire life story to her childhood bully. That maybe she'd dreamed _Draco_ had told her of Lucius Malfoy's abuse. It was impossible that she'd be convinced onto a broom with the former Slytherin Seeker at midnight.

But she remembered everything, from the way her back was pressed to his chest and the first time he'd kissed her shoulder-her sweater had been slipping-Hermione had nearly fallen from hundreds of feet above Hogwarts. Squeezing her legs together beneath her robes, she could still feel how the tips of his fingers trailed over her skin, the way his stubble had scratched against the tops of the insides of her thighs.

The incredibly well-groomed Pureblood had vanished. In his place was a man instead of a boy, whose eyes seemed to haunt and enthrall her. She'd decided she liked the stubble, had told him in a broken moan.

"Mister Malfoy, you can't walk away without sharing what you've experienced with the class!" Professor Slughorn scolded, and Hermione's head snapped up.

 _Firewhiskey, cologne, wind, with the rain riding on it._

One look at her and he knew exactly who she'd smelled not even three minutes earlier. The casual grin that spread over his face caused her stomach to twist deliciously. "It was Firewhiskey, grass and sweat." The class was silent for a moment, before they saw the implications of his words.

* * *

A scream tore free of her as she was yanked into a closet off the fourth floor staircase. "Who do you think you," Hermione was cut off by a hand settling gently over her lips.

"Don't scream. I couldn't even get you alone." He murmured. " _Lumos."_

Her heart was pounding as she looked over Draco. "I could have killed you." He snorted. "At the very least I could have maimed you."

"I'm fairly certain that's exactly what you said to me when I told you I wanted to take you for a ride on my broom." Malfoy replied, a smug smirk on his face.

She scoffed. "And _I'm_ fairly certain you say that to all the girls." Hermione sang cheekily. "What makes you want to seek me out?"

"You know exactly why." Draco leaned down and her back met the wall as his hands came down on either side of her head. "Because I had to smell nothing but you for a goddamn hour today and then watched you sprint away from me as fast as you could."

She stuttered. "You're just imagining things."

He laughed, but it was low, dark, and made goosebumps raise across her arms. "No, Hermione. I know exactly what I smelled. It's the same thing I smelled when you below me beside the Great Lake, and my tongue was between your breasts."

"That's hardly appropriate." She managed. "I'm Head Girl. I could go straight to Headmistress McGonagall with how you've,"

"I don't know why you're so desperate to forget about me, or that night. But do me a favor. If it's because of this fucking _thing_ ," Draco ripped up his sleeve, the button popping off, and bared the Dark Mark. ",please let me know so I can get over you."

Her eyes grew wide, brimming with tears as she shook her head. "Merlin, do you honestly believe I care?"

"Aunt Bella,"

Hermione grabbed him by his shirt, kissing him feverishly just like she had when they'd rolled over the grass. "Enough." she gasped, ragged. "It was you, so just shut up."

"Of course it was me." He muttered, ducking down to kiss her hard, his fingers digging into her hip as he grabbed his wand and cast a non verbal silencing spell.

"You smut bastard. A closet? I thought you'd at least shag me on a bed this time." Hermione laughed, her head hitting the wall as he bit her neck.

"I'll take you here and then in the Room of Requirement." Draco promised.

He rarely broke promises.


End file.
